


Light Streaming Over His Face

by saltyburning



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Fantasy, Gen, Humor, Knight Dean Winchester, Knights - Freeform, Memory Alteration, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions, Tags May Change, but just mild angst, but with more stuff going on, my goal is to make each chapter named after a rock song, sorta - Freeform, the tags will start to make more sense later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyburning/pseuds/saltyburning
Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Sam and Dean are transported into a very different time. They must navigate this strange world to find a way back home.Just one problem- Dean has no memories of what that “home” is.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 8





	Light Streaming Over His Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I binge-watched too many episodes of Merlin and this is what came from it.

_“I could never go on a quest like that. Because I’m not clean.”_

* * *

The first thing that he registered was pain. He was dying, he was dying- 

No. 

That wasn’t a knife in his chest, it was just an ache from the impact of being flung to the ground. That wasn’t the tingling numbness of death, he was laying on a carpet of something poking into his skin. 

Air flooded into his lungs. _Pine needles?_

Sam struggled to open his eyes. His eyelashes were gummed together. He squinted through them. Everything was made of light, nothing solid, nothing real. _Oh god, what if I_ am _dead?_

He blinked. The world became clearer. Trees stretched up into an impossibly blue sky like desperate hands reaching in prayer. Golden sunlight glinted off of and filtered through leaves. A soft breeze still smelling of winter whispered through them, rustling Sam’s hair. The very image of springtime, something painters would envy to capture. 

He became aware of his defenselessness, sprawled on his stomach on a bed of pine needles pricking at his cheek. He took in a deep breath. No extra pain sprung from his chest, so he probably didn’t break any ribs. 

He carefully pushed himself into a kneel, then stood up on wobbly legs. 

This wasn’t where he was supposed to be. 

_He had the witch cornered. Keeping his finger off the trigger, he steadily aimed his gun at her._

_”Please,” he said. “Put the book down. I don’t need to hurt you.”_

_The witch’s face twisted at his words and she slammed the book onto the wooden table, keeping a hand rested firmly on a page. For a moment, Sam was relieved._

_Then he realized she was mumbling something under her breath. Something ancient and dangerous._

_He opened his mouth to shout, but the air was knocked out of his lungs as he was thrown backwards by an invisible force. He crashed onto the floor, seeing stars. Scrambling to his knees, he tried to reach for his gun but was too disoriented to find it._

_”Sammy!”_

_He looked up to see Dean’s panicked face in the doorway. Within seconds, it was hidden by purple fire._

_Then all that was left was darkness._

And he had woken up in a forest. A pretty pleasant one, at that. A yellow butterfly flitted past him. 

The witch must’ve been desperate for any spells that would get them out of her home, unless she chose to send him here for a reason. He glanced around, wary of anything that might jump out and attack him. 

Nothing showed up, not even a particularly fierce rabbit. He brushed some dirt off of his jacket and pulled his phone out. No signal. _Great._

Now he had no idea where Dean was and if he was even safe. The same applied to Dean, actually. Sam chewed his lip. Dean had a tendency to make pretty stupid decisions when he was scared for him. 

_Find a highway,_ Sam told himself. He picked a direction and began walking. 

The forest seemed almost endless. Hopefully it wasn’t. The air was chilly but warmed in spots where sunlight peaked through the treetops. It had been a while since he had been in a forest like this. Most of their hunts nowadays were in more urban areas, all uptight subdivisions and creepy basements. He would’ve enjoyed it here, if not for the circumstances. 

Songbirds swooped above his head, twittering to each other. His footsteps on the leaf-littered ground seemed to echo in the otherwise silent woods. Actually, it wasn’t silent. There was a distant noise, a hum, not quite a roar- 

A road? 

He took off in the sound’s direction, almost slipping as he leapt forward. Branches hit him on the cheek and brambles got snagged on his pant leg, but he shoved through them. His heart pounded in his ears as he brushed the sapling’s limb aside, catching sight of a gap in the forest. 

What was revealed wasn’t a highway. Just a small, babbling creek with clear water and pebbles at its bottom. 

Defeated, he stumbled down its bank and collapsed into a kneel in the silty muck. _Castiel,_ he prayed, _please help me. I don’t know where I am- a hunt went wrong and now I’m alone._ He swallowed the lump of emotion that was forming in his throat. _Please, Cas. If anything, just get a message to my brother that I’m okay._

There was no response yet Sam felt more hopeful. A couple minnows swam by. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Something colorful glinted in the reflective rushing water. Sam stared at it detachedly for a moment before jumping. Someone was here. 

He jerked his head up and could’ve never been prepared enough for what he saw. 

A man in tarnished silvery armor, standing on the bank across from him. He held his helmet under one arm, his other hand holding the reins of his horse. The horse’s head was bent, taking a long drink of water. The man, on the other hand, stood stiffly. He stared at Sam with wide, green eyes. 

“ _Dean?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still crying over that time when Sam said he couldn’t go on a quest like in the book about The Knights of the Round Table that he read as a little kid because he “wasn’t pure”. Let him wield a sword, he deserves it.


End file.
